


A Rainy Day in Vancouver

by thegillovnyway



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M, it's moist in vancouver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegillovnyway/pseuds/thegillovnyway
Summary: David and Gillian in season 1.





	A Rainy Day in Vancouver

David doesn’t expect anyone, and he expects her least of all.

“Gillian?” He’s buzzed her in; he’s had a minute, almost two, to prepare himself for her arrival. Seeing her now in front of him, where he lives, he feels like his two worlds collide, finally. They’re friendly enough on set. David likes her. She’s funny and she’s ambitious; she screws up a lot. Just thinking about having to whisper into her ear that she’s not on the right mark puts a smile on his face.

“I swear it was sunny when I left!” She shakes her head like a wet dog and it’s only now that David takes in her appearance. She’s soaking wet, her clothes dripping on the carpet in the hallway. He grabs her shoulder and ushers her inside.

“I’m all wet,” she complains and he bites his tongue; this is not the time for a lewd joke. Gillian runs her hands over her face and David is taken aback. He knows she’s young, younger than him anyway, but fuck. She’s beautiful. She’s wearing no make-up and he can spot a few stubborn freckles on her nose, on her cheeks.

“Fuck this hair,” she grumbles, momentarily distracting him from her face. She tries to smooth the frizzy locks of hair. David chuckles and can’t stop himself from reaching out, tugging one damp strand behind her ear. Her mouth opens as though she wants to stop him, or say something, but no words leave her lips. She just stares up at him with her big, blue eyes that he’s come to depend on these last few months. He reads them easily. It’s as if she were a language only he understood, only the two of them spoke. He’s never experienced anything like this before. Once, years ago, a director told him that even if you hate your co-stars, you have to make it happen. Make the audience believe you love each other, that you have a long history with each other. With Gillian, he feels, it’s no effort. It just happens. It’s just there.

“You need to get out of these wet clothes.”

“I came here to read lines,” Gillian says as if apologizing. “I thought we could… you said you didn’t mind.” He nods slowly, remembering. Chris, as well as several directors have been short with her lately, have told her to step up her game. So he’s offered to run lines with her to make it easier for her. For him, too. This is her first big gig. The least he can do is help her out. For better or worse, they’re in this together. David doesn’t see the show lasting. It’s too silly, too out there. He glances at her as she runs her fingers through her hair, as droplets of rain fall to the floor. Soon she’ll be out of his life again, possibly. The thought gives him pause.

“I don’t mind.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. He’s not some lanky, awkward teenager. “You need to get out of these wet clothes, though.” Gillian sighs, pouts at him and nods.

“Wait here.” David says to her and disappears into his bedroom. There should be clothes from Perrey here somewhere, but he can’t find them. He grabs his old Yale t-shirt knowing it’s clean and a pair of boxers. They’ll fit her – at least he hopes they will.

“Here you go. The bathroom is right over there.” Gillian takes the clothes from him and mouths a thank you. David doesn’t mean to listen, but what else is he supposed to do? This is his apartment and yet he feels like the stranger, the one who came for a visit. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and waits for her reemerge. There’s the sound of rustling behind the closed door. He hears a muffled ‘fuck’ and chuckles. She looks so innocent with her tiny stature, with her winning smile and her freckles. Then she starts talking, starts swearing like a sailor. David loves it.

The bathroom door creaks open and David swallows hard as he sees her, his mouth suddenly dry. She tugs at the boxers which end mid thigh and giggles.

“I, uhm, put my clothes up to dry.” Gillian searches his eyes and he has trouble not letting them drift lower. “They’re all ruined. Even my underwear.” Oh how he wishes she hadn’t said that. He licks his lips quickly, his eyes darting down. Her breasts strain against his t-shirt and he has to stop himself from not touching them, her. He doesn’t allow his eyes to wander any further, or his thoughts.

“Sure,” he stammers, “so lines, huh? Let’s go check out what Chris wants us to talk about.” It’s a habit to put his hand on the small of her back. She feels warm against him now and he reminds himself not to think. Do not think about her not wearing a bra. She sits on his couch, her legs under her. Do not think about her not wearing underwear, he tells himself.

“Do you need anything?” David asks. His own clothes feel too tight, as does his throat. She looks up at him, one hand in her hair, the other browsing through the script.

“No, I’m good. Come on, sit down, David.” There’s a smile on her face and David can’t move. She laughs, what a wondrous sound, and pats the free space next to her. She lifts an eyebrow at him. He’s never seen it before. There’s a challenge sparkling in her eyes. David blinks, but the moment remains what it is.

“You look like a wet dog,” he says and she’s quiet for a second before she starts giggling. David watches her, unable to look away. 

“It’s my fucking hair,” she says.

“I like it.” He doesn’t know when he joined her on the couch. He’s just there, so is she. David catches a strand of her hair between two fingers. It feels so soft. It smells like rain and also like her. He thinks of the first episode, of meeting her. Standing in the rain with her, trying again and again to get the scene right. Outside the rain hammers against the windows and inside, his heart does the same against his ribs. David looks at her, she looks at him. There’s a smile on her face, confident. She has no idea. Up until two minutes ago, he didn’t either. He tucks the strand of hair behind her ear. His finger grazes the shell and she sighs; he doubt she even notices. What would she do if he touched her cheeks, her lips? Her neck? Her breasts? What if he carried her into his bedroom? What then? What-

“Let’s try this scene. What do you think?” David startles. “I don’t know how to play it.” Gillian points at it and his eyes follow her finger. He sees words, but they don’t register. As his eyes meet hers again, he knows he’s screwed. This show might not last. They might be done in a couple of months. No more night shoots. No more Gillian showing up unexpectedly. She has no idea, none at all. When did this happen, he wonders as he nods and she starts talking in her Scully voice. When did he fall for his freckle-faced co-star?

And what can he do it to make it stop?


End file.
